Our boys were in a two week acting camp this summer that culminated with a performance of Aladdin. Inside the program was a casting call for the theater group’s next show, Jungle Book. Alongside the audition information was the following: “It’s hard to get theater experience if you don’t have a show on your resume…but, how can you get a show on your resume if you can’t get cast?” Wow. I couldn’t decide if this was job advice from ziprecruitor or lyrics from a song in A Chorus Line?
As much as this disclaimer strikes me as too grown-up for kids exploring singing and dancing on stage, I bet it’s 100% correct. It’s only logical that the producers of these shows would tend to cast the kids they’ve seen previously. If one wanted to aspire to the meatier roles, building your resume and continuing to perform in the same company’s shows would most likely be a necessity. Potentially, one commits to theater at the cost of other pursuits.
It’s not like this theatre is the only one selling this sort of logic to parents and kids. Every single sport—from baseball to golf to soccer—has competitive outlets at the youngest of ages and numerous businesses that will gladly take your money to develop your children’s talent. Our friend’s daughter has increased her commitment to dance over the past couple years. Recently her parents have been tapped on the shoulder with the idea of joining the competitive team because, among other reasons, she shows promise.
Call me a skeptic, but you can never go wrong complimenting a child’s ability and then asking their parents for more money to foster that ability. I’m sure that Abby does show promise, but that sort of sales pitch puts parents in a difficult position. Of course, you want your child excel in an activity she participates in, but how much time and money does a family dedicate to competitive dance?
I am absolutely not suggesting that anyone asking for money in exchange for your children’s time is evil. And while the proliferation of these outlets in my lifetime is somewhat staggering, I understand that there’s a marketplace for them. Ultimately, what makes me uncomfortable is the overwhelming culture that one must start their kid on an activity now for them to have future success. Full disclosure, I’m not immune from this thinking. If you told me that ten years from now that my boys would want to be part of some team or club and to ensure their membership I just need to get started on the prerequisites now? Of course I would.
Jenni and I, along with our parenting peers, seem to be entering a new phase of our parenting career. When your kids are babies, there’s the “just keep them alive” phase—make sure the kid is fed, watered, clean, and sleeping on their back through nightly video surveillance. Second, you move on to the human literacy phase—-where one learns to walk, talk, read, write, etc. There’s also a variety of electives at this stage; around our house we’ve learned lessons such as “laugh when adults laugh,” “Disney movies WILL have happy endings,” and the all-important, “please be good in public.”
This next phase seems to be about helping them find out who they are. If we start out in life as an uncarved block of wood (not unlike the piece of wood that comes in pinewood derby kit), we’re beginning to sculpt and shape the form of this human. When we talk to other parents, the phrase that keeps coming up is helping our children, “find their thing.” The problem is time and money are limited and it’s becoming harder to be involved in multiple activities, especially when each lobby (baseball, dance, theatre, etc.) makes it so easy to just stay with the mother ship.
When High School Musical came out over ten years ago, I would have never thought that Troy’s internal struggle between basketball and acting would be relevant to my parenting. Gosh, that film works on so many levels. But only in a Disney film could the point guard for the high school basketball team all of a sudden be cast in the lead role in a musical. It would be impossible in real life because he would have no shows on his resume. Of course Troy Bolton had to win the championship game and get a standing ovation—see earlier lesson about Disney films.
Intellectually, I know it won’t all be game-winning buzzer beaters and standing ovations for Ryan & Chase. They will want things and not get them. They’ll experience disappointment and hopefully grow from it. If Jenni and I do our jobs right, their happiness in high school (and beyond) won’t depend on being the starting pitcher or being cast as Dany Zuko.
The “urban monkey” costume for Chase in the Jungle Book.
So, how do the Matsumotos proceed in the fall? Chase is trying out for the Jungle Book. Ryan is playing baseball in the fall. Our hope would be that the boys enjoy these activities in the here and now. Chase loves performing and the smile on his face when he’s on the stage is brilliant. At some point this season, Ryan will probably get a hit or make a catch that will make himself proud. If not, he’ll enjoy joking around with his teammates in the dugout. Will these activities boost their resumes to get them where they want to be in high school? I honestly don’t know. But while future baseball roster spots and speaking parts may be limited, happiness never is.
